Imbibe
by The-Cursed-Daughter
Summary: In which a goddess meddles, and Bakura is drunk. Malik/Bakura


_So, several other authors here got me into thiefshipping...and then I converted Vi._

It's amazing!

_Anyway, I was bored out of my skull, so instead of doing homework, I wrote smut. Because I **totally** have my priorities straight. _

Just a head's up for those of you who don't know, Hemsut is the Egyptian goddess of fate.

**_Warnings/Disclaimers: Swearing, sex, mentions of alcohol. YGO franchise belongs to whoever it is that it belongs to, but the plot is mine._**

_Also, Malik=hikari, Marik=yami._**_  
><em>**

* * *

><p>Nobody knew where she came from, and she pissed Bakura the fuck off.<p>

It wasn't that she was hanging off of him, per se. In fact, it seemed more like Malik was doing all the chasing. She was like some kind of comet—she came in on the fringes of their solar system, skirted the planet Friendship Cult, and made her way straight for the black hole known as Club Insanity. (One drunken Saturday morning, Marik, Malik and Bakura had even designed jackets. Otogi didn't get one because he drank the last of the scotch and refused to apologize. Marik declared this blasphemy and demanded a pound of flesh, and things sort of dissolved from there.)

Now she was here, and Bakura was not amused. And just like a comet, she was cold fire and hot ice and aloof and untouchable. Bakura's job description in a nutshell and one more reason not to like her. Worst of all, she was the silver to Malik's gold, and where exactly did that leave Bakura?

_Platinum._ He hated platinum. Ryou, because he's so fucking _nice_, tried to point out that platinum was pretty, and expensive. And very rare. Bakura informed him that humans were lazy, and nobody bothered to dig deep enough to reach the rare stuff. That bitch was silver, and silver was _everywhere_.

* * *

><p>"You're a bitch."<p>

Bakura was drunk, and that was stupid and smart at the same time. It was smart because why not be drunk, he had nothing better to do—he could always aggravate Marik, but there were odd noises coming from the bathroom and he hadn't seen Otogi in over an hour—but stupid because he was _drunk_, and being drunk made him confrontational.

And more violent than usual, but he was willing to overlook that at the moment.

She didn't look up from where she stood, leaning on the balcony railing—because Malik had invited her over and now it was three in the morning and why the fuck was she still _here_?—and said, "And you're an unmitigated asshole."

The gears in his head ground through the vodka to find the meaning of 'unmitigated'. "That's clever. You're _clever_," he hissed, "And you use big words."

She was still staring at the stars. "And you use little ones. Is this going somewhere?"

Bakura pondered this as the room swayed. Where was this going? He really should think these things through before he did them. "What's your name?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Being rude to someone when you don't know their name is..." he paused, "Well, it's rude."

"You can call me Sophie." Sophie pushed away from the railing and faced him.

"'You can call me Sophie'," the thief slurred. "You think you're so mysterious and shit. I think you suck." She smirked, and he scowled. "Leave Malik the fuck alone."

Sophie laughed. "I _know_ I'm mysterious. And if you want _him_ to leave _me_ alone, tell him yourself."

Excellent plan, though he'd never admit it to her. He spun on his heel, amazed that he stayed upright, and lurched into Malik's bedroom. The Egyptian was looking over his shoulder at the mirror, his eyes fixed on the scars on his back. He jumped as Bakura stumbled in. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The thief stopped to think—what was he...oh, right. "Why do you like Sophie so fucking much?"

Malik yanked his shirt over his head, covering his chest and back. "What? Are you drunk?" He looked Bakura up and down. "Stupid question. What do you care about Sophie?"

"She's a bitch."

The former tomb-keeper stared at him, appraising him, until Bakura wondered if the world around him had suddenly ground to a halt and if so, could he wander into the bathroom to see a freeze-frame of what Marik and Otogi were up to? He almost didn't hear Malik chuckle and the subtle shift of cotton as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh Ra. You're _jealous_."

Not something he had expected to hear. "Don't be a twat. Why should I be jealous of _her_?"

Malik's eyes widened, but Bakura failed to see what was so shocking about his question. Then the other man snickered. "That's food for thought. I wasn't implying that you were jealous of her. I thought you were jealous of _me_."

Fuck. Bakura suddenly understood what he said, and the alcohol that had been making him comfortably fuzzy now shot him straight to the depths of Hell. He spun around, focused on getting away, getting out, and possibly filching the last bottle of whiskey from the cabinet above the sink before he booked it out of there—

"Where," a voice purred in his ear as a hand closed around his arm, "do you think _you're_ going?"

Snarling, he half-turned while still reaching for the doorknob—_why_ did he shut the door behind him when he barged in?—only to regret it when he was slammed against the wood. He hissed as his arm was caught between his back and the wooden frame. Malik was too close, _way_ too close, his breath hot on the albino's cheek. "Now why would the great Bakura be jealous of Sophie?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Get off me, you idiot." Bakura squirmed, ignoring the jolt of pain that shot through his shoulder. "Or at least stop trying to break my arm."

The pressure loosened just enough for him to yank his arm out from behind him. His thoughts flew, snapshots of soft spots and pressure points flitting through his brain as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to get out of this, and—

And then Malik sank his teeth into the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, and that was that.

The lust was a sudden jolt to his system, keeping the pain at bay. His hands found a place in Malik's hair, pulling hard enough to make the man growl. A brief thought of Malik as a vampire made Bakura scowled. "Like we don't have enough in this fucking house to drink." He yanked Malik's head up and smashed their lips together. Almost immediately, he nicked Malik's lip with his fang and copper exploded on his tongue as he wound it around the tomb-keeper's. The hands on his hips tightened, and a leg worked its way in between his. "Not that this isn't comfortable," Bakura mumbled as Malik worked down his neck, "but wouldn't you prefer to—"

Air forced itself out of his lungs as he was thrown onto the bed, the springs squealing loud enough to give him a headache. Malik was on top of him before he could budge, tearing off clothes with reckless abandon, and on instinct Bakura threw his arms around the Egyptian's shoulders. His fingers brushed scars and Malik ground to a halt, eyes wide.

Bakura shrugged as well as he could, pressed into the mattress. "I hear there's a kink for those."

The tomb-keeper was still for a moment longer, but then a wicked grin split his face. Bakura's eyes slid shut as hot lips trailed down his chest, teeth nipping at ribs and hipbones. Hands hooked under his knees and wrapped them around a thin waist. "You're skinny," Bakura blurted, suddenly regretting having so much to drink.

Hot air blew against his skin as Malik laughed. "Thank you, I think?"

It was hard to focus when a tongue was tracing the outline of his hip. "Shut up. I've been drinking." Bakura cracked an eye open. "Speaking of, isn't this against some code of conduct or something?"

Malik considered this. "If you regret this in the morning, I'm sure you can just kill me."

"Solid logic, that is."

The man above him disappeared for a moment, coming back into view with a small pink bottle. "Ready?"

"I'm going to hurt you if you don't get on with it." Bakura winced when the first finger entered, stretching him. The second and third fingers followed soon after, and he threw his head back, moaning. He heard Malik chuckle above him as he withdrew his fingers, and he started to lift his head to snap something about dismemberment when his mouth opened in a silent scream as Malik pushed into him.

"You okay?"

It burned, but it was a minor discomfort. Bakura grunted, nodding. "Go." With a snap of his hips, Malik complied, driving deeper into the man. Sweat clung to them both as they moved together, Bakura sinking his fingernails into the dark skin of Malik's back. Above him, Malik groaned and cursed in Ancient Egyptian. Heat coiled in his belly, and Bakura threw his head back as Malik thrust into him one more time and the world went white.

* * *

><p>"Her full name is Sopdet."<p>

This was not the pillow-talk Bakura had expected as he slowly came awake. He rolled over, carding his fingers through his bangs. "The fuck, Malik?"

"Sophie. Her full name is Sopdet. As in—"

Bakura jerked upright. "I _know_ who Sopdet is. You're telling me that the _goddess of the stars_ has been hanging around our shit apartment?" He groaned and dropped his head into this hands—his comet analogy suddenly made _so_ much sense. "Next you'll be telling me Hemsut was partying with the pharaoh and his little cheerleaders." Malik rolled his eyes and Bakura demanded, "Why?"

Malik shrugged. "She said she likes you. She called you plucky."

The thief started to get out of bed. "Where does that bitch get off? Doesn't she have, I don't bloody well know, _things_ to do? Supernovas to start or something?" He spun on his heel, jabbing a finger at Malik. "And _you_. What did you do to get her to help you?"

"You say that like I know the whims of the gods. _She_ found _me_, Bakura, and one thing led to another," he punctuated this with a flap of his hand, "and here we are." He smirked. "Maybe we were—"

"So help me Ra, if you say 'meant to be' I'll take your eye out."

The tomb-keeper laughed and Bakura frowned. He found his pants on the windowsill and busied himself yanking his legs through the holes. Malik arched an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

"How many times are you going to ask me that in night?" Bakura scowled. "Off to find Sopdet. I'm going to have a word or two with her about calling me _plucky_."

The five a.m. news was on, Marik and Otogi absently watching it, as Bakura burst into the living room. The balcony door was shut. "Where did she go?"

Marik didn't look up from the screen. "Who?"

"Sophie. The one who's been hanging around Malik for the past month."

The yami looked up at the ceiling as he thought for a long moment. "No idea who you're talking about."

Otogi gave him an once-over. "Are you drunk? And where's your shirt?"

"None of your fucking business. Are you telling me you two don't remember her? Tall, dark hair, gray eyes?"

The dice master nudged Marik. "He's drunk."

Bakura stormed back into the bedroom, grumbling "Shut up, you," before Malik even opened his mouth. The window latch was already unlocked, so Bakura slammed the window. "You hear me, you bitch?" his voice echoed across the empty courtyard, "If you ever call me plucky again, I'll come up there and show you just how plucky I can be when I'm cutting your head off with a toothbrush!"

"Feeling better?" Malik asked as the thief climbed back into bed.

Bakura groaned and covered his head with a pillow. "I'm going to be so hung-over in the morning."

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><p><em>Reviews would be lovely.<em>

_Kit &_ Vi


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